Dumbledore's Propaganda
by Dimcairien
Summary: The HP series is sent to Percy Weasley's office in August of 1995. What happens when he, Fudge, Umbridge, Tonks, Kingsley, Madam Bones, and John Dawlish are all made to read the books together? Percy firmly believes the books are propaganda, but are they? Warning: slight Dumbledore bashing, though not malicious as Fudge and Umbridge both hate him. On temporary hiatus. Will finish.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N I got this idea from a challenge that kuminpink posted. I know that I haven't finished Books from the Future but the idea was too interesting to pass by. I have most of the next chapter written and I will try to stay somewhat ahead in order to keep updates running smoothly.**_

_**As a warning, this story will contain some bashing towards Dumbledore and Harry from certain Ministry workers. When this happens, generally it won't be my on opinion, but rather the opinions of the characters.  
**_

**_Enjoy._  
**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and the words in bold are JK Rowling's_**

One day in early August of 1995 Percy Weasley was sitting at his desk practically downing in work, not that he'd ever admit that. He also would never admit that he wasn't certain what he should do. He had just had a major argument about the impossibility of You-Know-Who's return with his parents and now was regretting his hasty words. Of course, he didn't believe that You-Know-Who had returned, but he shouldn't have yelled at his parents the way he had, especially calling his father incompetent. Yes, it might be true, but he shouldn't have said it to his father's face. At the moment, Percy was simply hoping that his parents would come round and understand that there was no way that You-Know-Who could return. After all, he had died and there wasn't any way of raising people from the dead. With a shake of his head, Percy dismissed his thoughts about his family and turned back to his work. In fact, he was so engrossed in his continued work on the deterioration of cauldron bottoms that he almost didn't notice the loud pop that sounded in his office. However, he did notice that sound and quickly looked up as it sounded like Apparition, but it was impossible to Apparate directly into any offices. There was no one there, but on the small side table there was a pile of books that he hadn't noticed before and he could've sworn they had just appeared.

Percy slowly got up and went to look at them. There were seven in all and a note was on the top addressed to himself. He picked it up and opened the envelope. The note he pulled out was one of the strangest notes he had ever seen.

_Percy Weasley,_

_This may seem very strange, but these books come from the future, yes the future, twenty-five years to be exact. These seven books chronicle the life of one very important wizard: Harry Potter. Yes, Harry Potter. I know you don't like him much at the moment, but please remember the days merely a year ago. It is essential that you read these books, especially the fourth and fifth books as they contain information about Voldemort._

_Remember, you must read these books in order to understand the chaos that will be happening in a few years. Now, here is the least of people who need to be here to read these books._

_Percy Weasley  
Cornelius Fudge  
Dolores Umbridge  
Amelia Bones  
__Nymphadora__ Tonks  
Kingsley Skacklebolt  
Rufus Scrimgeour  
John Dawlish_

_These books are essential to read. Many of your beliefs will be challenged while reading them, but every single word in them is true. You cannot omit a single word. _

_Now, like we said earlier, the fourth and fifth book must be read first as you all know about the main events in the first three. However, there will be moments in which some clarifications will be necessary. When that happens, you'll be able to open one of the other three books to a certain chapter or chapters in order to understand a certain backstory. After reading the fourth and fifth book, you will then proceed to the sixth and seventh, both of them entirely in the future. Between these four books, as well as bits of pieces from the other three, you will have knowledge of Voldemort and how to defeat him. Once again, we repeat, you must read these books in their entirety._

_Molly and Lucy_

Percy looked at the letter in complete confusion. Twenty-five years in the future? How was that even possible? Time-turners could only go back twenty-four hours, or at least the most common ones did. And Potter? Why were there books about that lying attention seeker? And what was all of that about having to read the books to defeat You-Know-Who? Everyone knew that Potter had defeated You-Know-Who nearly fourteen years ago, that wasn't argued, but it was impossible for You-Know-Who to come back. Percy firmly believed that the only reason there was the rumour of You-Know-Who's return was to put Minister Fudge in a bad light. Well, he was not going to believe this. Surely this was simply propaganda coming from Dumbledore's supporters.

Percy was just about the throw the note and the books into the trash when there was another flash of light and yet another note fell to the desk.

_Percy,_

_We know what you just tried to do. It's impossible for you to avoid reading these books no matter how hard you try not to. We'd recommend getting started as soon as possible, because, as you have put it many times, 'the sooner you start something, the sooner you can get it finished'. So, live up to your advice and get your arse into the Minister's office and start reading these books._

_Molly and Lucy_

To say Percy was surprised would be an understatement. Who were these two girls that seemed to know him perfectly? And why was one of them named after his mother? Was it simply a coincidence or were these girls somehow related. Well, it seemed he had to read the books with those listed. He didn't know what would happen if he refused, but whatever would happen probably wouldn't be very good.

He packed the books into a bag and hurried over to Minister Fudge's office. Percy knocked on the door. "Come in," called Fudge. Percy entered and Fudge said, "Ah, Percival, how is your final report on cauldron bottoms doing?"

"I'm afraid it got slightly interrupted," Percy answered, "but the arrival of these books."

"Interrupted? Books?" asked Fudge in surprise. "What do you mean, Percival?"

"Just what I say," said Percy in explanation. "These books arrived on my desk along with a note saying that I needed to read them with you and six other Ministry workers. I was also told that there was no way around not reading them."

Fudge furrowed his eyebrows. This sounded extremely suspicious. "What kind of books are they?" he asked as he got up and walked over to where Percy was standing.

"The note said that they were about Harry Potter and You-Know-You," said Percy. "I think it's a propaganda scam from Dumbledore, but the writers of the note were insistent that the books be read. I tried to get rid of them, but was stopped by the arrival of a second note saying that reading them was unavoidable."

"Where did they come from?"

"Well," said Percy slowly. "That is where it gets complicated. The note said that they were from twenty-five years in the future, so 2020."

Fudge started at his Junior Assistant in shock. "How can that be possible?" he wondered, though he was thinking that this might be a scheme of Dumbledore's to get them to believe the books, not that he ever would.

"I have no idea," Percy admitted, "but I think the books should be read. Not that I think Dumbledore and Potter are right in that scam about You-Know-Who returning, but, they might help us in other ways such as teaching us of the Order's whereabouts."

"Very well, you make a convincing argument," said Fudge. "Who else is on the list?"

"Dolores Umbridge, Amelia Bones, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Skacklebolt, Rufus Scrimgeour, and John Dawlish," Percy said. "A good group and I think they are all loyal to you, Minister."

"Go and send memos to them," Fudge commanded, "and we'll meet in the briefing room."

About half-an-hour later, the seven Ministry workers and the Minister were all gathered in the briefing room.

"Minister, do you know why we have been called here?" asked Umbridge as she adjusted her pink shawl around her shoulders.

"I think Percival is the man to explain," said Fudge.

Percy stepped forward and explained the note to the group just as he had to Fudge a little while ago.

"Yes, it has to be propaganda," said Umbridge firmly. "Only a complete fool would believe Dumbledore and Potter over that ridicules notion of You-Know-Who's return."

"Well said, well said," proclaimed Dawlish. "Hopefully these books will give us even more information to discredit Dumbledore and Potter." Dawlish had been raised to always believe the Minister in times of difficulty, and he figured that a nation divided on whether or not You-Know-Who had returned certainly counted as a difficult time, so he was proud to be on the Minister's side. After all, the Minister for Magic was not a normal man and always knew what to do and what to say. If Fudge ever believed that You-Know-Who would return, Dawlish would follow, but not until then.

Fudge nodded in agreement. He had a feeling that these books would probably be a waste of time if they were trying to prove the return of You-Know-Who, but if they contained more information to prove that both Dumbledore and Harry were insane, it would be fine. After all, You-Know-Who hadn't returned, nor would he ever return, so it was quite safe to say that these books would bring about the downfall of Dumbledore and those loyal to him.

Percy didn't say anything. It seemed most likely that Dumbledore was the one who had sent these books, but he was not one to hide behind an alias. For that reason, he was very confused as to what he should think. Also, the note had told him that every word in the books were true, so then it couldn't be propaganda, unless the note was simply to get him to believe the books. "I won't make a decision to believe until something is proven, whether true or otherwise," he thought.

Very secretly, Kingsley and Tonks exchanged a glance. It would be very difficult for them keep their composure in this room. Hopefully these books would give them information about Voldemort and how to defeat him. Umbridge and Dawlish were most certainly loyal to Fudge in every respect as was Percy, but hopefully they could convince Percy otherwise and perhaps Dawlish. Fudge, naturally, was a lost cause unless the truth of Voldemort's return was flung directly into his face. Both of them were a little uncertain about Madam Bones and Scrimgeour though. They were fairly certain that Madam Bones believed Dumbledore and most likely Scrimgeour did as well, but they could not be certain, at least, not yet and they wouldn't compromise their position by asking.

Madam Bones removed her monocle and rubbed her forehead. She wasn't exactly certain what her stance was quite yet. Yes, she believed that there was a possibility of You-Know-Who's return, but she wasn't certain if she wanted to believe that he had. There wasn't much evidence pertaining to his return yet, but if there was enough proof, she would believe it. After all, she was heading the warnings, unlike Fudge.

Rufus Scrimgeour was a man of seeing before believing. He too, knew of the danger the world would be in if You-Know-Who returned, but at the same time, he was certain that You-Know-Who couldn't return. He had been destroyed that Halloween night and destroyed things, especially people, could not come back from the dead. It was a complete impossibility. Because of this, he didn't know what to think. He believed Fudge's statement about You-Know-Who not having returned, but he also believed that the wizarding world should always be ready for someone trying to take over.

They were just about to begin reading when yet another note appeared. Percy caught it and read it aloud.

_Well, you all should be gathered by now, so we'll get straight to the point. Read the books, starting with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Whenever you don't know about something, you can ask a question, and if it's important enough, the chapter or chapters in whatever book the adventure happens in will be unlocked. This is how it will work for the four books you will be reading. Remember, every single word is true. Ever adventure that is talked about really happened, even the ones that seem unlikely._

_Oh, and one more thing, no one can leave this room until the books are finished. Also, only first and second year spells will be allowed. This is to prevent you from trying to kill each other as many of you will get mad at others in the room._

_Good luck and happy reading,_

_Molly and Lucy._

"Should we get started then?" asked Madam Bones.

"Very well," agreed Fudge. "Madam Bones, you may start with the first chapter."

"Thank you, Minister," said Madam Bones and she picked up the book.

**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire**

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament then," said Dawlish. "Perhaps we'll find out how Dumbledore managed get his 'Golden Boy' into the tournament and how Potter managed to win, as well as kill Diggory."

"More like figure out how the Death Eaters got him to join," thought Tonks, but she had the mind-set to not say anything like that aloud unless she wanted something bad to happen.


	2. The Riddle House

**_A/N I feel sick when writing Umbridge. She is such a despicable character. I also hope I don't make myself hate Percy by writing this. He's far from being my favourite Weasley, but I do like him. Also, just so you know, I'm updating this story on Point Given's site as well. The link to the forum is in my profile and you can find me under Dimcairien there as well._**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and the words in bold are JK Rowling's._**

Madam Bones slowly opened the book to the first chapter and began to read in her calm, yet authoritative voice.

**The Riddle House**

Kingsley nodded slowly. Of course the book would start out with Voldemort. In the very first Order meeting, Dumbledore had told them that Voldemort's real name was 'Tom Riddle'.

"I thought this was about Potter," said Umbridge angrily. "Skip to where it's about Potter so we can discredit him. Isn't this what this reading is about?"

"Madam Umbridge, I'm afraid it's impossible to skip," said Madam Bones as she tried to turn the page in order to comply with Umbridge's request. "The page won't turn until I get to there in the reading."

"Oh, very well," said Umbridge as she adjusted her cardigan again. "But this delay better be worth it."

"I'm sure it will," said Percy. "The note told me that all the books were mostly about Harry. This chapter probably gives background information about some event or other from this year."

"You mean, like the attack on at Quidditch Cup?" asked Tonks.

"Perhaps," said Percy, though he firmly believed that it had been a bunch of wizards who simply wanted the world to believe that You-Know-Who would return. He couldn't deny that he had been terrified, but it had simply consisted of a bunch of wizards being idiots as well as a house elf. It did not help that many wizards, although not himself, were not in their correct minds do to the intoxication that came along with celebrating a victory.

**The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it 'the Riddle House', even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there.**

"They must have had quite the reputation then," said Kingsley.

**It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine- looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict and unoccupied.**

"In other words, a haunted house," stated Tonks gleefully.

**The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house was 'creepy'. Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was any more.**

"Every old town has its creepy legends," said Tonks. "Some of them scare you half to death and others are great for a laugh."

**Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer's morning, when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, and a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.**

"Exciting start," murmured Dawlish.

"And that must be where the truth ends and the legend starts," said Kingsley, very interested in finding out more details about this murder. Even Dumbledore wasn't one-hundred per cent certain how it had happened, but then it had been so long ago that probably no one except for Voldemort knew exactly how it had happened.

"And why they're remembered," Tonks pointed out.

**The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village, and roused as many people as she could.**

**'Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!'**

**The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for they had been most unpopular. Elderly Mr and Mrs Riddle had been rich, snobbish and rude, and their grown-up son, Tom, had been even more so.**

"Considering who he fathered, he certainly is," thought Kingsley.

**All the villagers cared about was the identity of their murderer – plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same night.**

"Killing Curse," murmured Rufus Scrimgeour, knowing that could be the only possibility. But who would want to kill three ordinary Muggles? If this event was taking place about fifty years ago, then the only possible culprit would've been a teenager, and even You-Know-Who wouldn't have murdered while still in his teens.

**The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade that night; the whole village had turned out to discuss the murders. They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles' cook arrived dramatically in their midst, and announced to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just been arrested.**

**'Frank!' cried several people. 'Never!'**

**Frank Bryce was the Riddles' gardener. He lived alone in a run-down cottage in the Riddle House grounds. Frank had come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud noises, and had been working for the Riddles ever since.**

**There was a rush to buy the cook drinks, and hear more details.**

Tonks was just about to crack a grin, but stopped herself just in time. "I'm sure she and Hagrid would get along well," she thought. "At least, they both spill secrets when intoxicated."

**'Always thought he was odd,' she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. 'Unfriendly, like. I'm sure if I've offered him a cuppa once, I've offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didn't.'**

"Some people simply like their quiet," said Kingsley. "It doesn't mean anything."

"But sometimes it's regarded with suspicion," said Scrimgeour slowly.

**'Ah, now,' said a woman at the bar, 'he had a hard war, Frank, he likes the quiet life. That's no reason to –'**

**'Who else had a key to the back door, then?' barked the cook. **

"Uh, she?" suggested Tonks. "There's almost always more than one suspect."

"Yes, but the cook was the one to find them," Dawlish pointed out.

"You're an Auror," said Tonks. "What better cover-up than to murder them, leave, enter the room, and but on a theatrical act of finding them and freaking out?"

"I doubt anyone would have that logic," said Kingsley, "though it is true that there is some suspicion towards her, at least, I would suspect her." _If I didn't already know who the culprit was_, he thought afterwards.

**'There's been a spare key hanging in the gardener's cottage far back as I can remember! Nobody forced the door last night! No broken windows! All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping ...'**

"And that confirms it," said Tonks. "She definitely is a suspect."

"Or has proper logic," said Scrimgeour, though he too thought the cook was acting rather oddly. But, seeing dead bodies when you weren't expecting them could mess you up as well.

**The villagers exchanged dark looks.**

**'I always thought he had a nasty look about him, right enough,' grunted a man at the bar.**

**'War turned him funny, if you ask me,' said the landlord.**

"War changes everyone," said Scrimgeour solemnly. "All of, except perhaps for Miss Tonks, were involved in the war with You-Know-Who fifteen years ago and are all different because of it."

Dawlish nodded slowly in agreement. "Indeed. Sometimes people are changed for the better, and sometimes for the worse. Perhaps this Frank person got changed for the worse."

"You don't mean to say you think he could murder his employers, do you?" asked Madam Bones, looking up from the book.

"I am simply stating what I think to be possible," Dawlish responded calmly.

**'Told you I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of Frank, didn't I, Dot?' said an excited woman in the corner.**

**'Horrible temper,' said Dot, nodding fervently, 'I remember, when he was a kid ...'**

"So the gardener has his temper against him," sighed Dawlish. "Terrible tempers always go against everyone at some point."

"Then you, Fudge, and Umbridge should be booted out," Tonks thought scathingly.

**By the following morning, hardly anyone in Little Hangleton doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the Riddles.**

"But earlier they didn't …" said Tonks.

"It goes to show how if a person of a reputable source says something, many people are likely to believe," stated Kingsley.

Tonks caught the double meaning of Kingsley's words and nodded grimly. If they could manage to discredit Fudge and Umbridge, perhaps there was a way to prove to everyone that Voldemort had returned before he made his return public, which was bound to happen soon.

**But over in the neighbouring town of Great Hangleton, in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was stubbornly repeating, again and again, that he was innocent, and that the only person he had seen near the house on the day of the Riddles' deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale.**

Kingsley and Tonks both exchanged a glance and mouthed, "Voldemort?"

Tonks looked slightly repulsed at the idea of a teenage Voldemort murdering his family, but she certainly wouldn't put it past him.

**Nobody else in the village had seen any such boy, and the police were quite sure that Frank had invented him.**

**Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank, the report on the Riddles' bodies came back and changed everything.**

**The police had never read an odder report. A team of doctors had examined the bodies, and had concluded that none of the Riddles had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangled, suffocated or (as far as they could tell) harmed at all. In fact, the report continued, in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment, the Riddles all appeared to be in perfect health – apart from the fact that they were all dead.**

"I would assume that is what the Killing Curse looks like to a Muggle doctor," stated Kingsley.

"Why do you think it's the Killing Curse?" asked Fudge rather sharply.

"It's the only factor that fits," said Kingsley calmly.

**The doctors did note (as though determined to find something wrong with the bodies)**

"Muggles hate being baffled and they'll sometimes come up with the most ridicules theories," said Tonks with a laugh. "My paternal grandparents are a prime example of that."

"Even more proof that Muggles are stupid," stated Umbridge grandly. "They can't even see something if it's thrown in their face."

"Two-faced bitch," thought Tonks as she struggled to keep from leaping up and strangling Umbridge. _How on earth was she going to keep her temper during this book if she was already reacting like this in the first chapter? What the hell was she going to do during the Tri-Wizard Tournament?_

Kingsley gave her a look that clearly said, "Calm down. It will be worse if you don't." She nodded subtly and sank back into the chair. Tonks briefly wondered if she should cast a sticking charm on her rear end to keep her in her seat, but decided against it, at least for the moment

**that each of the Riddles had a look of terror upon his or her face – but as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three people being _frightened _to death?**

"It's been known to happen," stated Dawlish, "but probably not three people at once."

**As there was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered at all, the police were forced to let Frank go. The Riddles were buried in the Little Hangleton churchyard, and their graves remained objects of curiosity for a while. To everyone's surprise, and amidst a cloud of suspicion, Frank Bryce returned to his cottage in the grounds of the Riddle House.**

**''S'far as I'm concerned, he killed them, and I don't care what the police say,' said Dot in the Hanged Man. 'And if he had any decency, he'd leave here, knowing as how we knows he did it.'**

"Or if you had decency, you'd shut the hell up," said Tonks.

"Miss Tonks!" saidScrimgeour sternly. "We know that it was a wizard, but these Muggles are so dense that they cannot see that it wasn't an ordinary human who murdered these poor people."

"I'd hardly call them poor," Tonks muttered under her breath, but she nodded in respect. "Sorry sir," she apologized. "I just can't believe that somebody could be that rude towards someone she has known for a good portion of her life."

Percy flinched inwardly at Tonks' statement. He was certain that she hadn't meant that statement to be directed towards him, but he certainly felt the sting of it. Even though he was certain he was in the right, he was regretting his hasty words towards his family, especially his father. Someday, Percy hoped to forgive them, but that would only be when his family realized how wrong Dumbledore and Harry were about You-Know-Who's return.

**But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden for the next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next – for neither family stayed long.**

"Do you think the house was cursed?" asked Tonks.

"I wouldn't doubt it," said Kingsley. He was unable to directly state that he thought Voldemort might have cursed the house, but he hoped that Tonks was smart enough to try and figure it out.

**Perhaps it was partly because of Frank that each new owner said there was a nasty feeling about the place, which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into disrepair.**

**The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither lived there nor put it to any use; they said in the village that he kept it for 'tax reasons', though nobody was very clear what these might be. The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening, however. Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday now, very deaf, his bad leg stiffer than ever, but could be seen pottering around the flowerbeds in fine weather, even though the weeds were starting to creep up on him. **

**Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend with, either. Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones through the windows of the Riddle House.**

"Vandalism," muttered Umbridge. "How much time should that get them?"

"Delores," said Fudge. He paused for a moment and continued slowly, "They're Muggles and the Muggle government will see fit to punish them as their laws decree."

Umbridge huffed, but sank back into her chair. She was certain that the Muggle government was extremely incompetent when it came to justice, after all, nothing ever went wrong with the Ministry's justice system, except for the escape of Sirius Black, but he would soon be caught and hopefully given the Kiss.

**They rode their bicycles over the lawns Frank worked so hard to keep smooth. Once or twice, they broke into the old house for a dare. They knew that old Frank was devoted to the house and grounds, and it amused them to see him limping across the garden, brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them. Frank, on his part, believed the boys tormented him because they, like their parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer. So when Frank awoke one night in August, and saw something very odd up at the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further in their attempts to punish him.**

"But it won't be," said Tonks.

"Why do you say that, Miss Tonks?" asked Scrimgeour.

"He thinks it's the boys and in stories like these, the actual culprit is rarely, if ever, the original suspect," Tonks explained.

"I think you've been reading too many mysteries," said Kingsley with a shake of his head.

**It was Frank's bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped down- stairs into the kitchen, with the idea of re-filling his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee. Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in its upper windows. Frank knew at once what was going on. The boys had broken into the house again, and judging by the flickering quality of the light, they had started a fire.**

**Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he had deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had taken him in for questioning about the Riddles' deaths. **

"Anyone would," said Kingsley. For his part, it had taken a lot of convincing in order to let Sirius know that he hadn't been there to arrest him and that he believed him to be innocent.

**He put down the kettle at once, hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door. He picked up his walking stick, which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night.**

**The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of being forced, and nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock and opened the door noiselessly.**

**He had let himself into the cavernous kitchen. Frank had not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his way towards it, his nostrils full of the smell of decay, ears pricked for any sound of footsteps or voices from overhead. He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust which lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his feet and stick.**

**On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were: at the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the room beyond.**

**The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This surprised him. He stopped moving and listened intently, for a man's voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful.**

**'There is a little more in the bottle, my Lord, if you are still hungry.'**

Yet again, Tonks and Kingsley exchanged glances. This had to be the place Voldemort had hid in before his re-embodiment and perhaps he was hiding there even now. It certainly was a possibility that shouldn't be overlooked.

**'Later,' said a second voice. This, too, belonged to a man – but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy wind. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on the back of Frank's neck stand up. 'Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail.'**

"That's a very odd name," said Scrimgeour. "Is it a nickname of some sort?"

"I would assume so," Tonks answered, though she knew it to be true. Sirius had told them all about Wormtail. "Who in their right mind would name their child 'Wormtail'?"

"A Black might," said Kingsley with a grin.

"Kingsley!" cried Tonks. "My name is bad enough! And anyways…" Tonks let her voice trail off as she couldn't let it be known that she and Kingsley knew the true identity of this man. "I'll get you for that insult at some point, Kingsley," she said as sternly as she could muster. She knew that Kingsley had meant his statement completely in just, and she got the joke, but this person still was responsible for the Potters' deaths and Voldemort's resurrection.

**Frank turned his right ear towards the door, the better to hear. There came the chink of a bottle being put down upon some hard surface, and then the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head. Then he disappeared from sight again.**

**'Where is Nagini?' said the cold voice.**

"Of course," Kingsley thought. "Voldemort wouldn't go anywhere without his snake."

** 'I – I don't know, my Lord,' said the first voice nervously. 'She set out to explore the house, I think ...'**

"So there's a third person," murmured Scrimgeour.

Percy shook his head. "These are very interesting code names," he said. "Wormtail, Nagini, My Lord … I really wonder who they are. At least one has to be involved with Dumbledore, if not all."

For a few seconds Tonks looked as if she might be sick. Thankfully, she was able to morph the greenness away, but she still looked extremely disturbed. How thick was everyone at the Ministry? She desperately hoped that these books would knock some sense into them, especially Percy, or she'd do it herself.

**'You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail,' **

"Or not," Kingsley finished. "Unless of course, this is a family with Nagini being the mother …" He was trying to keep up his rather dry sense of humour. It was needed in this room considering the company he was currently keeping.

"Skacklebolt!" said a horrified Scrimgeour rather sternly as everyone stared at Kingsley. Fudge, Umbridge, and Percy were all looking disapprovingly at him, Madam Bones and Dawlish were staring at him in shock, and Tonks was trying not to laugh.

**said the second voice. 'I will need feeding in the night.**

"His speech is a bit too proficient to still need milk," said Tonks slowly, piggy-backing on Kingsley's joke. His theory disturbed her and she knew it was false, but she loved seeing the other's faces, especially Fudge and Umbridge's. Now both of them were getting the disapproving looks, but Tonks knew she was safe as they couldn't cast any lethal spells and she couldn't be kicked out of the room.

**The journey has tired me greatly.'**

**Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the door, listening very hard. There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again.**

**'My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?'**

**'A week,' said the cold voice. 'Perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over.'**

"I loved that event," sighed Tonks, "except for what happened afterwards of course."

Fudge stared straight ahead. He could not deny the presence of the Dark Mark over the Quidditch World Cup, but that didn't prove You-Know-Who's return. It simply proved that there was a Death Eater around, but the Death Eater had gotten the kiss and he no longer had to worry about him.

**Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to a build-up of earwax, he had heard the word 'Quidditch', which was not a word at all.**

"It is too a word!"

"Tonks," said Kingsley sternly, or as sternly as he could manage through his laughter.

**'The – the Quidditch World Cup, my Lord?' said Wormtail. (Frank dug his finger still more vigorously into his ear.) 'Forgive me, but – I do not understand – why should we wait until the World Cup is over?'**

**'Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.'**

**Frank stopped trying to clear his ear out. He had distinctly heard the words 'Ministry of Magic', 'wizards' and 'Muggles'. Plainly, each of these expressions meant something secret, and Frank could think of only two sorts of people who would speak in code – spies and criminals.**

"This Muggle seems to have a brain, unlike most," said Dawlish.

**Frank tightened his hold on his walking stick once more, and listened more closely still.**

**'Your Lordship is still determined, then?' Wormtail said quietly.**

**'Certainly I am determined, Wormtail.' There was a note of menace in the cold voice now.**

"What on earth is he planning?" Scrimgeour silently wondered. He was an Auror, so he knew how criminals thought and judging from the discussion of these two, he knew they were planning something vile, probably something along the lines of murder, but there hadn't been any murders in the wizarding world. Well, there had been that Diggory boy, but it was debated whether or not he was murdered by a Death Eater, Potter, or had died in the final task. Scrimgeour was certain that it couldn't have been Potter and as for the Death Eater, well, the only had Potter's word and Dumbledore had believed him. Now though, there was the whole debate revolving around whether or not You-Know-Who had returned. He was absolutely certain that You-Know-Who hadn't returned, but he wouldn't put it past one of his followers to pretend to be him in order to wreck havoc.

**A slight pause followed – and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve.**

**'It could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord.'**

"What are they plotting, or I suppose I should say plotted, that involved Potter?" asked Dawlish.

"Something dangerous," said Madam Bones. "They're in an abandoned house at around midnight. Naturally, whatever they're plotting is bound to have nothing good in it."

"Too right you are," muttered Kingsley under his breath. Thankfully no one heard him except for Tonks. She gave him a look that said to be more careful. Kingsley cracked a slight grin as the two of them seemed to be taking the other's place for a brief moment. Normally he was the one telling her to be careful, not the other way around.

**Another pause, more protracted, and then – 'Without Harry Potter?' breathed the second voice softly. 'I see ...' 'My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!' said**

**Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. 'The boy is nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard – any wizard – the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while – you know that I can disguise myself most effectively – I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person –'**

"Suitable person, for what?" asked Madam Bones, her voice rising in panic.

"I'm afraid to ask, but it probably has to do with whatever this person's plans are," said Scrimgeour slowly.

"I would suppose murder to be a possibility," suggested Kingsley.

**'I could use another wizard,' said the second voice softly, 'that is true ...'**

**'My Lord, it makes sense,' said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved now, 'laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected –'**

**'And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder ... perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?'**

"I do think that this Wormtail person needs to leave," said Madam Bones. "Whoever 'My Lord' is, he certainly appears evil."

"Well, he can't," Tonks thought. No one could leave Voldemort's service unless they preferred death and the majority of people preferred life to death.

**'My Lord! I – I have no wish to leave you, none at all –'**

**'Do not lie to me!' hissed the second voice. 'I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me ...'**

**'No! My devotion to your Lordship –'**

**'Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?'**

"He sounds like he's helpless," muttered Umbridge. "If so, he should be destroyed. People who cannot function on their own should not be allowed to exist."

"To bad no one did that when they could," Tonks thought darkly, then opened her eyes in horror when she realized that she had agreed with Umbridge.

**'But you seem so much stronger, my Lord –'**

**'Liar,' breathed the second voice. 'I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care. _Silence!'_**

**Wormtail, who had been spluttering incoherently, fell silent at once. For a few seconds, Frank could hear nothing but the fire crackling. Then the second man spoke once more, in a whisper that was almost a hiss.**

**'I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail – courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of **

Madam Bones paused for the briefest of seconds before continuing on quickly.

**Lord Voldemort's wrath –'**

Everyone except for Kingsley and Tonks flinched involuntarily, but once the shock was over, chaos entered the room.

"No!" said Fudge firmly. "It is not true. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was destroyed and can never come back. This is propaganda from Dumbledore. How dare he send it here!" Fudge was still fuming at the very idea of You-Know-Who being back as there wasn't any way for it to be possible, except for denying the laws of magic, which were, of course, undeniable.

"Minister, even though it is propaganda, we still might learn things," said Percy slowly. "Perhaps we'll learn about the hide-out for the Order or maybe stuff about the Death Eaters. For all we know, there might be a few around who are trying to make it seem as if You-Know-Who as returned, even though I know he hasn't." Despite firmly believing the impossibility of You-Know-Who's return, Percy was still keenly interested in wondering why his family and Dumbledore believed Potter's lie. In fact, he wouldn't put it past himself to believe that Potter might be pretending to be You-Know-You come back from beyond the grave. Certainly, the 'My Lord' title fit and the name Wormtail was familiar to him. He knew he had heard the twins talking about it at one point, but he wasn't exactly certain where.

"Your thinking is quite interesting, Mr Weasley," said Umbridge. "And very possible. Yes, it would be an excellent thing to find out where the Order is hidden so we can destroy them as they should be."

Tonks stiffened slightly. She knew that the Fidelius Charm was on Number Twelve, but the Ministry would find out the location of it, even though they wouldn't be able to see the actual building. That might make things a little more difficult, but she hoped that there'd be a way around it. She also felt extremely sorry for the third Weasley boy. He had been brainwashed into believing Fudge over his own family and now it appeared that he didn't care a bit for them. Tonks desperately hoped that it was just an act that Percy put on in front of Fudge and Umbridge, but something told her that this was what Percy truly believed.

Scrimgeour bit his lip in thought. Perhaps there was someone out there pretending to be You-Know-Who back in power or perhaps there was the slightest of chances that he had somehow escaped complete destruction. The body of You-Know-Who had never been found in Godric's Hollow, but he had passed it off because of the amount of destruction that had occurred in the house. For the first time, he began to doubt his previous beliefs about You-Know-Who's return. However, he did not want to believe it unless it was the only thing to believe. He wasn't one to believe anything without physical proof standing in front of him, Well, maybe not standing in front of him per se, but real, tangible proof was needed for him to believe anything. For now, he'd settle on the fact that there was a Dark Wizard currently in power or at any rate, planning on rising to power. That much was evident from these books, whether they were propaganda or not.

Dawlish glared harshly at the book. Those last words had confirmed his belief that these books were propaganda like young Percival Weasley had stated. Anyone who believed You-Know-Who's return, or even if he had survived that night at Godric's Hollow were insane. He sank back in the chair and resigned himself to a day, or perhaps multiple days considering the sizes of the books, of listening to propaganda from Dumbledore and his cronies.

Umbridge's mouth open and closed like a fish's at the mention of the name. She blinked quickly a few times and adjusted her cardigan like she didn't have a care in the world, but she did. She was horrified that these books had come into the possession of the Ministry. Naturally, everyone in this room believed them to be propaganda, (if they didn't, once they were out of the room, those who didn't believe the books to be propaganda would be converted), but she was horrified should anyone believe them to be true. "These books must never leave this room and they shall be burned when we're done with them," she announced. "It wouldn't do for them to arrive in the hands of the average wizard. Think of the chaos they would cause if they're already proclaiming that You-Know-Who has survived."

"Very good, Dolores, excellent!" affirmed Fudge. "We shall do just what you suggest when the reading is finished."

Madam Bones pulled out her monocle and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It seemed that her fears were already coming to light. She had always been curious as to why there hadn't been a body found in Godric's Hollow, or even the fragments of one, but survival might just explain its' absence. She still didn't want to believe it, but knew that she just might have to.

Kingsley sighed as he watched the reactions unfold around him. It was quite obvious that Fudge, Umbridge, Percy, and Dawlish refused to believe that Voldemort was back, but he was quite pleased to see a small amount of doubt crossing his boss's face and also Madam Bones. If Rufus was already doubting Fudge's account, then perhaps he would join them soon after all. Kingsley desperately hoped that he would because the Order could easily use more experienced Aurors and more people in general. Amelia Bones would also be an excellent person to have on their side, both for her power in the Ministry and her competence with a wand.

After a few minutes of silence, Madam Bones began to read again, though not quite as confidently as before.

**'My Lord, I must speak!' said Wormtail, panic in his voice ****now. 'All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head – my Lord, Bertha Jorkins' disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I curse –'**

"So that's what happened to her!" said Dawlish. She had been caught by this Lord person (he refused to believe that it was You-Know-Who because Fudge didn't believe it), but that statement did prove that something bad, most likely death, had happened to her. "Does Diggory know?"

"I doubt it," said Scrimgeour sadly. "He has practically shut himself off from the world since his son's death."

"Ah ha!" said Umbridge as an evil grin snuck on to her face. "With this book, we will be able to prove that Potter murdered Diggory."

"But this is propaganda," said Fudge. "The only things that will be in it will be what Dumbledore wants us to read."

"But the note stated that every word of the book is true," said Tonks. "Therefore, even if it is propaganda, there is no falsified information in it."

"But if someone want us to believe this propaganda, they would say it was all true," stated Fudge.

Tonks opened her mouth to reply, but Kingsley stopped her with a gentle touch to her shoulder and a slight shake of the head.

**'If?' whispered the second voice. _'If? _If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has disappeared. You will do it quietly, and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition ... come, Wormtail, one more obstacle removed and our path to Harry Potter is clear.**

"Could this possibly have to do with the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" wondered Scrimgeour.

"How so?" asked Madam Bones as she gazed at him through her monocle.

"Think about it," said Scrimgeour. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament has an infamous death record. What better way to try and murder someone than by having him compete in the tournament, killing him, and then passing off his death as a tragic accident."

"Sometimes I wish you couldn't think like that," murmured Kingsley with a shudder, knowing his superior's guess to be more or less correct.

**I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my _faithful _servant will have rejoined us –'**

**_'I _****am a faithful servant,' said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice.**

**'Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfill neither requirement.'**

"So, what Death Eaters fit?" wondered Tonks.

"I doubt any of them would," said Scrimgeour. "Considering the amount that are currently in Azkaban, I would say none of them have brains and most of them were probably frightened of him, so that would rule out loyalty as well."

**'I found you,' said Wormtail, and there was definitely a sulky edge to his voice now. 'I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins.'**

**'That is true,' said the second man, sounding amused. 'A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail – though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?'**

**'I – I thought she might be useful, my Lord –'**

**'Liar,' said the second voice again, the cruel amusement more pronounced than ever. 'However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform ...'**

Tonks shivered slightly, knowing that Voldemort had meant that literally. Dumbledore had told them about Wormtail's silver hand and how it had come about. With a sickening felling, Tonks suddenly realized that most likely the graveyard chapters would be in this books. It had been horrible enough hearing about Voldemort's resurrection from second-hand, but to actually hear it from Harry …

**'R-really, my Lord? What –?' Wormtail sounded terrified again.**

**'Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end ... but I promise you, you will have the honour of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins.'**

"But if Jorkins was killed …" Scrimgeour's voice trailed off, not wanting to think of what might have happened to Bertha Jorkins.

"Whoever this is, they are ruthless, whether it be You-Know-Who or someone pretending to be him," stated Madam Bones as she couldn't voice her suspicions in front of Fudge and Umbridge. "Therefore, we can assume that whatever is in store for the Wormtail person, it is bad."

**'You ... you ...' Wormtail's voice sounded suddenly hoarse, as though his mouth had gone very dry. 'You ... are going ... to kill me, too?'**

**'Wormtail, Wormtail,' said the cold voice silkily, 'why would I kill you? I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless. In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns ...'**

"What?" asked Dawlish. "Is this wizard supposed to be dead?"

"Of course he is!" said Fudge. "You-Know-Who died nearly fourteen years ago!"

"Not him!" retorted Dawlish. "I know that. I was asking about this Wormtail fellow. It sounds like he is supposed to be dead."

"As this Wormtail is clearly not dead, prior to the Quidditch World Cup at any rate," began Madam Bones, "I would assume that somehow or other he faked his death in order to spy or perhaps some other noble deed."

"Yeah, but these two characters clearly aren't noble," said Tonks.

"Miss Tonks, this Wormtail person may only be pretending with this Lord person and is actually a spy trying to gain information on this Lord person," replied Madam Bones calmly.

If it had been under any other circumstances, Tonks would have laughed. The idea of Peter Pettigrew being a spy was so outlandish. Sirius had said that he had neither the guts nor the brains to do any acts of the sort.

Percy furrowed his eyebrows. Perhaps he was wrong about the twins talking about Wormtail if this wizard had died. And naturally, as it was obviously a nickname, there was no way he could comb through files in order to find out more information. He hoped that perhaps the true name of Wormtail would be revealed and then he could research him.

**Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank could not hear it, but it made the second man laugh – an entirely mirthless laugh, cold as his speech.**

**_'We could have modified her memory? _****But Memory Charms can be broken by a powerful wizard, as I proved when I questioned her.**

"Wait, so was a memory charm performed on Jorkins?" questioned Scrimgeour. "Perhaps that would explain her potential to forget everything prior to her disappearance."

"But the question is, what happened to her," stated Dawlish. "All that we know is that she disappeared somewhere in Albania and hasn't been heard from since. From this book, it appears that she died, but who killed her or how did she die?"

"If would put my money on Potter or Dumbledore," said Umbridge. "As we all know, Potter killed Cedric Diggory, so what would stop him from committing a crime earlier?"

Tonks bit her lip to keep from shouting at Umbridge. How she could think that a fourteen-year-old, Harry Potter no less, was capable of committing murder was beyond her. Anyone who knew the boy would know that he couldn't do that, she knew it and she hadn't even met him yet, though she hoped to.

Scrimgeour too was extremely doubtful that Potter had murdered Diggory simply because of his age and also, Potter had never shown signs of aggression before, so why was everyone suddenly against him?

"Going back to the memory charm statement, why would anyone wish to do so?" inquired Percy. "She wasn't even that high up in the Ministry."

"Most likely she discovered something of great importance that she wasn't supposed to know," said Madam Bones. "However, it is illegal to perform memory charms of that sort without special Ministry privileges and nothing of the sort is in the files. Therefore, if that is the circumstances in which a memory charm was performed, the person who performed it will have to answer for his or her crime."

"She'll have a hell of a time getting that to happen as Crouch is dead," thought Tonks.

** It would be an insult to her _memory _not to use the information I extracted from her, Wormtail.'**

"What information?" asked Fudge.

"I'm certain it will be revealed in this book," assured Kingsley, though he already knew it had to do with the whereabouts of Barty Crouch Jr.

**Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware that the hand gripping his walking stick was slippery with sweat. The man with the cold voice had killed a woman. He was talking about it without any kind of remorse – with _amusement. _He was dangerous – a madman. And he was planning more murders – this boy, Harry Potter, whoever he was – was in danger –**

"Not anything different," muttered Tonks.

""What do you say?" asked Umbridge.

"Only that Potter seems to be a magnet for danger," Tonks replied as she struggled to keep her voice steady.

"And he deserves it," said Umbridge firmly. "Though I do think that the only reason he is attracted to danger is because of the attention that comes with it. We all know that Potter is simply and attention seeker and must be stopped no matter what because of his blatant lies."

"And these books will expose him for who he and Dumbledore truly are," finished Fudge.

**Frank knew what he must do. Now, if ever, was the time to go to the police. He would creep out of the house and head straight for the telephone box in the village ... but the cold voice was speaking again, and Frank remained where he was, frozen to the spot, listening with all his might.**

"If this Muggle had any brains, he'd get out of there," stated Scrimgeour.

"I thought he had a brain," said Tonks.

"He obviously lost it when he decided to stay instead of alerting the authorities," stated Percy.

**'One more curse ... my faithful servant at Hogwarts ... Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument. But quiet ... I think I hear Nagini ...'**

**And the second man's voice changed. He started making noises such as Frank had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting without drawing breath. Frank thought he must be having some sort of fit or seizure.**

"Please let that be happening," thought Madam Bones. Whoever 'My Lord' was, she wanted him dead or rotting in Azkaban, even though it had only been a few pages.

**And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway. He turned to look behind him, and found himself paralysed with fright.**

**Something was slithering towards him along the dark corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realised with a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long. **

"Nagini is a snake?" asked Dawlish in horror.

"It appears so," Scrimgeour said slowly. "And a huge one at that."

**Horrified, transfixed, Frank stared at it as its undulating body cut a wide, curving track through the thick dust on the floor, coming closer and closer – what was he to do? The only means of escape was into the room where two men sat plotting murder, yet if he stayed where he was the snake would surely kill him –**

**But before he had made his decision, the snake was level with him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it was passing; it was following the spitting, hissing noises made by the cold voice beyond the door, and in seconds, the tip of its diamond- patterned tail had vanished through the gap.**

**There was sweat on Frank's forehead now, and the hand on the walking stick was trembling. Inside the room, the cold voice was continuing to hiss, and Frank was visited by a strange idea, an impossible idea ... _This man could talk to snakes._**

"Definitely a Parselmouth then," muttered Tonks, though once again this was a detail she knew about.

**Frank didn't understand what was going on. He wanted more than anything to be back in his bed with his hot-water bottle. The problem was that his legs didn't seem to want to move. As he stood there shaking, and trying to master himself, the cold voice switched abruptly to English again.**

**'Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail,' it said. 'In-indeed, my Lord?' said Wormtail. 'Indeed, yes,' said the voice. 'According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say.'**

"Crap," said Tonks before she could stop herself. "He's dead."

**Frank didn't have a chance to hide himself. There were ****footsteps, and then the door of the room was flung wide open. A short, balding man with greying hair, a pointed nose and small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a mixture of fear and alarm on his face. 'Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?' The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair before the fire, but Frank couldn't see the speaker. The snake, on the other hand, was curled up on the rotting hearthrug, like some horrible travesty of a pet dog.**

**Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room. Though still deeply shaken, Frank took a firmer grip upon his walking stick, and limped over the threshold.**

**The fire was the only source of light in the room; it was ****casting**** long, spidery shadows upon the walls. Frank stared at the back of the armchair; the man inside it seemed to be even smaller than his servant, for Frank couldn't even see the back of his head.**

**'You heard everything, Muggle?' said the cold voice.**

**'What's that you're calling me?' said Frank defiantly, for now that he was inside the room, now that the time had come for some sort of action, he felt braver; it had always been so in the war.**

"Never let the enemy know that you're scared," stated Scrimgeour. "It only gives them an advantage."

**'I am calling you a Muggle,' said the voice coolly. 'It means that you are not a wizard.'**

**'I don't know what you mean by wizard,' said Frank, his voice growing steadier. 'All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You've done murder and you're planning more! And I'll tell you this, too,' he added, on a sudden inspiration, 'my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back –'**

**'You have no wife,' said the cold voice, very quietly. 'Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, **

Yet again, everyone except for Kingsley and Tonks flinched. This time Scrimgeour noticed that they didn't flinch and looked admirably at the two of them. He wished that he wasn't scared of the name as You-Know-Who was long gone and he should get over the fear, but sometimes when a fear is so deeply ingrained in someone, it's impossible to get rid of. He thought it was that way with You-Know-Who's name.

"It's not true, it's not!" said Fudge firmly. "He will never be back."

Amelia Bones looked at Fudge suspiciously. His continued denial was bothering her. If he kept saying that You-Know-Who's return was not true, could it possibly be true and the Minister was refusing to believe it? If so, he was more incompetent than she had thought.

**Muggle, for he knows ... he always knows ...'**

"He was supposed to be one of the most accomplished Legilimens," stated Kingsley, being careful to speak of Voldemort in the past tense.

**'Is that right?' said Frank roughly. 'Lord, is it? Well, I don't think much of your manners, _my Lord. _Turn round and face me like a man, why don't you?'**

**'But I am not a man, Muggle,' said the cold voice, barely audible now over the crackling of the flames. 'I am much, much more than a man.**

"As he is dead, he cannot be a man, much less more than a man," stated Dawlish.

**However ... why not? I will face you ... Wormtail, come turn my chair around.'**

**The servant gave a whimper. 'You heard me, Wormtail.' Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would rather have done anything than approach his master and the hearthrug where the snake lay, the small man walked forwards and began to turn the chair. The snake lifted its ugly triangular ****head**** and hissed slightly as the legs of the chair snagged on its rug.**

**And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting in it. His walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke, as it raised a wand. **

"What was in the chair?" asked Dawlish.

"It doesn't say," said Madam Bones. "Now let me finish as there are only a few sentences left."

**There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor.**

"It was inevitable," sighed Kingsley, but he wished that this poor Muggle's life could have been spared.

**Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter woke with a start.**

"Wait, did he see that?" asked Tonks in confusion.

"I don't know, but it's a possibility," said Kingsley slowly. One of the many things Dumbledore had told the Order about that didn't make any sense was the possibility of a connection between Voldemort and Potter.

"How on earth would he be able to see that?" questioned Scrimgeour. "I know for a fact that there isn't any Seer blood in the Potter family."

"It may be one of the many things that will be explained," said Percy. "But I think that these dreams are even more proof towards the fact that Potter is a lunatic. He saw You-Know-Who in a dream. It cannot get any more ludicrous than that."

"And that is the end," announced Madam Bones once the argument had ceased. "Rufus, if you will?" She held out the book to the Auror who took and it turned the page.

**_A/N I hope I'm not making Tonks and Kingsley appear too knowledgeable, but I do think that Dumbledore would have shared much of the information about Voldemort's resurrection with the Order to help them understand what was going on._**


	3. The Scar

**_A/N I swear that this group is one of the hardest to write. Also, _****_I'm going on vacation Wednesday for two weeks, so I don't know how much writing I'll get done. I'll try to get some writing done while I'm gone, but on the plane I'll probably be on nephew duty as we're on the same flight as my older sister and I'll be at my cousins' house so, I know I won't have much time to write there either._**

**_In other news, in six weeks I'll be headed off to college. I will still do my best to keep my stories updated, but they will probably slow down as I try to figure out my life as a college student._**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and the words in bold are JK Rowling's._**

As Scrimgeour took the book, his confusion over what to believe was quite evident to those looking for it.

**The Scar**

**Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.**

"Scars aren't supposed to do that, are they?" asked Tonks.

Amelia Bones slowly shook her head as she wondered what was going on. Of course, any abnormalities of Potter's scar would have to do with the fact that it came from the Killing Curse, which wasn't supposed to leave a mark. She also figured that it had something to do with Voldemort's defeat, but she wasn't certain what.

**He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.**

"What's he doing up at that hour?" wondered Madam Bones.

"If you just saw someone get murdered in a dream, wouldn't you wake up?" asked Tonks. "That's got to be one of the worst things to happen during your sleep."

"Very true," agreed Madam Bones, wondering why she hadn't thought of that. She still was wondering how in the world it was possible for Potter to see thing like that as she was certain there wasn't any Seer blood in the Potter family. But again, it surely had something to do with the scar, but magical scars where few and far between and no two were the same. She could only hope that whatever the reasons for the strange dreams and reactions both had to do with the scar and that it would be revealed in these books. Also, Amelia was quite certain that these books were not propaganda from Dumbledore, but at the same time, she still didn't want to believe that You-Know-Who was back in full form.

**Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal,**

"For an odd shaped scar," Tonks muttered.

** but it was still stinging.**

**Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real ... there had been two people he knew, and one he didn't ... he concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember ...**

"He wanted to remember that?" asked an incredulous Tonks.

**The dim picture of a darkened room came to him ... there had been a snake on a hearth-rug ... a small man called Peter,**

Percy bit his lip. The only wizard he could recall in recent history who's name had been Peter was Peter Pettigrew, a hero who had been murdered by Sirius Black. This Peter mentioned had to be a different one, it was the only possibility.

** nicknamed Wormtail ..**

"So now we have an identity on this terrorist," said Scrimgeour. "A small man named Peter who goes by the same of Wormtail. Once were out of this room, I'll get a warrant for his arrest. No matter if he is with You-Know-Who or not, this Wormtail person has to be stopped."

"Indeed he does," said Umbridge. "Especially as he appears to have been working with Black. Anyone in cohorts with him must be stopped at all costs. In fact, both of them should get the Dementors Kiss as soon as possible."

Tonks felt the blood rush from her face and she struggled to morph back to a somewhat normal complexion. What would she do, what would everyone do, heck, what would Harry do, if Sirius was caught and the Kiss was administered? She wouldn't mind if Pettigrew got it, he deserved it in her opinion, but it couldn't happen to Sirius. "We just need some way to prove him innocent," she thought, but that was surely impossible considering those in the room. The only people who even had the possibility of being convinced were Madam Bones, Scrimgeour, and the slight chance of Percy coming to, and she hoped this books would do it.

**. and a cold, high voice ... the voice of Lord **

Yet again, there was a slight pause before Scrimgeour rushed out the next word. He knew he shouldn't be afraid of it, as he was proud that Tonks and Kingsley didn't flinch. In his opinion, there was a difference between hearing something and saying it yourself, and saying You-Know-Who's name was a lot harder than hearing it.

**Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought ...**

**He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, **

"Why?" said Tonks. "Why would anyone want to remember what he looks like?"

"I don't know," sighed Kingsley with a shake of his head.

"Even more reason Potter is delusional and must be put away!" said Umbridge firmly. "Why can't we leave this dratted room, arrest him, and then come back and read?"

"I don't think we can leave the room until the books are finished," said Scrimgeour. "And I think it will take us several days to get through them, especially considering she sizes of the fifth and seventh books."

"I should've brought my knitting," Umbridge muttered angrily. "I need a new pink cardigan and I could be doing something worthwhile as we listen to these useless books."

**but it was impossible ... all Harry knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of horror which had awoken him ... or had that been the pain in his scar?**

"Both?" suggested Tonks, knowing that that was very possible.

**And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground. It was all becoming confused; Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them ... Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about someone they had killed, though Harry could not remember the name ... and they had been plotting to kill someone else ... _him _...**

"I'm amazed he hasn't freaked out yet," said Kingsley. "Most people would be hyperventilating if they found out someone was plotting to kill them."

"Potter is and always has been a very interesting character," murmured Scrimgeour. "If half the stories revolving around the Ministry are true … well, to put it simply, if he wasn't spreading this rubbish about You-Know-Who, he'd make a very decent Auror in a couple of years."

Kingsley stared at his boss in complete confusion for several seconds, before realizing that Scrimgeour was trying to give Potter a compliment while at the same time making it sound like an insult.

"But we don't want criminals in the Ministry, let alone the Auror department," said Fudge.

"If only you knew," thought Tonks. There were at least two known Death Eaters in the Ministry and who knew how many Voldemort supporters were around as well. If Fudge wanted to get rid of criminals, he'd have to get rid of a substantial amount of employees, naturally starting with himself and Umbridge, if not for criminal activity, than for plain stupidity.

**Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes and stared around his bedroom as though expecting to see something unusual there. As it happened, there were an extra- ordinary number of unusual things in this room. A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of his bed, revealing a cauldron, broomstick, black robes and assorted spellbooks. Rolls of parchment littered that part of his desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which his snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor beside his bed a book lay open; he had been reading it before he fell asleep the previous night. The pictures in this book were all moving. Men in bright orange robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks, throwing a red ball to each other.**

"Not the Cannon's," groaned Tonks. "They're the worst team out there."

**Harry walked over to this book, picked it up and watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch – in Harry's opinion, the best sport in the world – couldn't distract him at the moment. He placed _Flying with the Cannons _on his bedside table, crossed to the window and drew back the curtains to survey the street below.**

**Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far as Harry could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.**

**And yet ... and yet ... Harry went restlessly back to his bed and sat down on it, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; Harry was no stranger to pain and injury. He had lost all the bones from his right arm once, and had them painfully regrown in a night. **

"When did that happen?" wondered Kingsley.

"No idea," answered Tonks, having not heard that story before.

Percy knew what had happened to Harry regarding the Bludger and Lockhart, but as it was such a minor detail, he chose not to say anything.

**The same arm had been pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterwards. **

"What?" asked Tonks in complete confusion. "Where in the world did that happen?"

"In the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy rather quickly, almost as if he wasn't sure if he should answer Tonks or not. In the end, he continued, "Yes, it exists. Potter somehow figured out where it was and when my sister was kidnapped and taken down there, he rescued her, but got bit by the Basilisk. Thankfully Fawkes was there, so Potter survived." He said this in a rush so as not to portray any emotion. Even though he firmly believed Potter to currently be a liar and was angry at him for taking his family down that route, he was still grateful to him for saving Ginny's life.

**Only last year Harry had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick. He was used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a knack for attracting a lot of trouble.**

"Because he is trouble," stated Umbridge firmly. "All that boy does is wreck havoc. Hogwarts would be a much safer place without him and Dumbledore there. Both of them are dangerous individually, but if they combine their forces, they will surely overtake the Ministry and turn our wonderful Ministry into a dictatorship."

**No, the thing that was bothering Harry was that the last time his scar had hurt him, it had been because Voldemort had been close by ... but Voldemort couldn't be here, now ... the idea of Voldemort lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible ...**

"Because he's not alive," said Fudge yet again.

"Remind me, how did we end up with him?" whispered Tonks in Kingsley's ear. He simply shrugged and inclined his head towards Umbridge, letting Tonks know that she needed to be careful, even when whispering to him as she was extremely likely to get suspicious.

**Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half expecting to hear the creak of a stair, or the swish of a cloak? And then he jumped slightly as he heard his cousin Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room.**

**Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid; there was no one in the house with him except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and painless.**

**Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best;**

"Agreed," muttered Kingsley.

"And how do you know that?" asked Fudge suspiciously.

"I've seen them in the distance once or twice," said Kingsley, who had indeed seen them outside while he was on guard. "As you know, I'm out in the Muggle world frequently and I unfortunately ran into them." Thankfully, that answer was good enough for thick people such as Fudge, Umbridge, and Dawlish, but Scrimgeour, Amelia, and Percy looked a little doubtful, but before anyone could say anything else, Scrimgeour continued to read.

** it wasn't as though they were ever any help to him awake. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were Harry's only living relatives. They were Muggles (non-magic people) who hated and despised magic in any form, which meant that Harry was about as welcome in their house as dry rot.**

"Exaggeration," said Umbridge firmly. "That boy is so full of himself that he is unable to see the love of family."

For the first time, Percy looked extremely wary of Umbridge's statements. He knew that Potter hadn't been treated very well by his relatives, and that was the truth. Unless the Dursleys had done a one-eighty, Madam Umbridge was wrong. Percy was horrified at the very idea that such a high Ministry official, and one so close to Fudge could be wrong, so he quickly dismissed the idea. Potter had to be the one in the wrong, he just had to be.

** They had explained away Harry's long absences at Hogwarts over the last three years by telling everyone that he went to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. **

"They what?" asked Amelia Bones in horror.

"In my opinion he should go there as he obviously is a criminal," stated Fudge.

"But still, that sounds like a dreadful place," Amelia answered with a slight shake of her head. How people could say that about their nephew was beyond her.

**They knew perfectly well that, as an underage wizard, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but were still apt to blame him for anything that went wrong about the house. Harry had never been able to confide in them, or tell them anything about his life in the wizarding world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and telling them about his scar hurting him, and about his worries about Voldemort, was laughable.**

**And yet it was because of Voldemort that Harry had come to live with the Dursleys in the first place. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, Harry would not have had the lightning scar on his forehead. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, Harry would still have had parents ...**

Kingsley bit his lip. James had been an Auror, along with Sirius, two years below him and they both had had excellent potential. He hadn't known Lily that well, but the little he had seen of her made him certain that she was a wonderful person. It really wasn't right that Harry shouldn't have known his parents, especially as they both had been lovely people.

**Harry had been a year old the night that Voldemort – the most powerful Dark wizard for a century, a wizard who had been gaining power steadily for eleven years – arrived at his house and killed his father and mother. Voldemort had then turned his wand on Harry; he had performed the curse that had disposed of many full-grown witches and wizards in his steady rise to power – and, incredibly, it had not worked. Instead of killing the small boy, the curse had rebounded upon Voldemort. Harry had survived with nothing but a lightning- shaped cut on his forehead, and Voldemort had been reduced to something barely alive. **

"I still want to know how that happened," murmured Dawlish. "It's impossible for the Killing Curse to be stopped by anything other than a material object. And when that object is a human, the person dies. It's as simple as that, yet Potter has defied the laws of magic."

**His powers gone, his life almost extinguished, Voldemort had fled; the terror in which the secret community of witches and wizards had lived for so long had lifted, Voldemort's followers had disbanded, and Harry Potter had become famous.**

"Understatement," muttered Tonks, who had grown up with all of the Harry Potter paraphernalia around.

**It had been enough of a shock for Harry to discover, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard;**

"He didn't find out he was magical until he was eleven?" asked Madam Bones in shock. "Why was the information kept from him?"

"Probably to do with Dumbledore," muttered Kingsley. He had hated the idea of Harry growing up with a Muggle family who probably didn't like him, at least, that was judging from what James had said, and had begged Dumbledore to reconsider, but to no avail.

** it had been even more disconcerting to find out that everyone in the hidden wizarding world knew his name. Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find that heads turned and whispers followed him wherever he went. But he was used to it now: at the end of this summer, he would be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts; and he was already counting the days until he would be back at the castle again.**

"A lot of children do that," said Tonks. "I know I did."

**But there was still a fortnight to go before he went back to school. He looked hopelessly around his room again, and his eye paused on the birthday cards his two best friends had sent him at the end of July. What would they say if he wrote to them and told them about his scar hurting?**

"What she should say is that he's a delusional idiot because that is the truth," Umbridge stated firmly.

**At once, Hermione Granger's voice filled his head, shrill and panicky.**

**_'Your scar hurt? Harry, that's really serious ... Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I'll go and check _****Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions ... _Maybe there's something in there about curse scars ...'_**

Kingsley let out a laugh. The little bit he had seen of Hermione was almost exactly like what Harry was thinking.

"What is so amusing?" inquired Scrimgeour.

"From what I have heard about young Miss Granger, her personality is almost exactly like that," Kingsley answered calmly, though inwardly he was trying to calm himself down. At some point it would become obvious that he and Tonks had contacts with Dumbledore and were in fact on his side. He hoped nothing would come out for a time, but still, he and Tonks needed to be really careful.

**Yes, that would be Hermione's advice: go straight to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. **

"There is much to be learned from books, but not everything," said Scrimgeour. "Some things can only be learnt through experience."

**Harry stared out of the window at the inky, blue-black sky. He doubted very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living person to have survived a curse like Voldemort's;**

"He is the only one to survive the Killing Curse," Dawlish pointed out.

"But it might not have been," said Umbridge slyly. "Potter has been spreading lies about You-Know-Who's return, so why couldn't lies have been spread that he had survived the Killing Curse? We all know it's impossible to survive and there are other curses that use a green light."

"Very true, Dolores," said Fudge adamantly. "I am certain that it has to be the truth in order to conform with the laws of magic."

"But there are exceptions to every law," said Amelia. "Yes, it is highly unlikely that Potter survived the Killing Curse, but if one understands that there might be an exception if some other spell is performed beforehand, then he may have survived."

"It's impossible for there to be exceptions to the laws of magic!" said Fudge firmly.

"I think if you look deep enough into any science, and yes, I'm including Muggle science and the science of magic, you'll find that to almost every rule there is at least one exception," Scrimgeour said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Fudge looked disdainfully at his Head Auror and added, "That is true about the Muggle sciences, but it is completely impossible for there to be an exception to the law of magic just as there is not exceptions to the law of gravity."

"Unless you're in outer space," Tonks added slyly, earning glares from many in the room, but an amused smile from Kingsley.

** it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his symptoms listed in _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. _As for informing the Headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full-length wizard's robes and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion into his long crooked nose. **

This time, Tonks could not suppress a snort of amusement. Kingsley, Amelia, Scrimgeour, and even Percy were trying to avoid grins at the mental image as well. Only Fudge, Umbridge, and Dawlish were glaring at the book furiously.

**Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry's owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to any- one, even without an address. But what would he write?**

**_Dear Professor Dumbledore, _**

**_Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. _**

**_Yours sincerely, _**

**_Harry Potter._**

**Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.**

"That's because they are," Dawlish muttered.

**And so he tried to imagine his other best friend Ron Weasley's reaction, and in a moment, Ron's long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before Harry, wearing a bemused expression.**

**_'Your scar hurt? But ... but You-Know-Who can't be near you now, can he? I mean ... you'd know, wouldn't you? He'd be trying to do you in again, wouldn't he? I dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit ... I'll ask Dad ...'_**

Again, Kingsley snorted at how accurate Harry's guess was on Ron's reactions.

**Mr Weasley **

Percy stiffened ever so slightly at the mention of his father. He'd never admit this, but he did miss his family. He still hoped that someday they'd apologize for their idiocy and come to the correct side in this whole scheme of You-Know-Who's return, though he was beginning to doubt Umbridge's intentions. Still, the Minister was most certainly on the right side. After all, he didn't become Minister for Magic for nothing.

**was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew. In any case, Harry didn't like the idea of the whole Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was getting jumpy about a few moments' pain.**

"I think there's more to it when you start dreaming about Voldemort," Tonks muttered under her breath.

** Mrs Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred and George, Ron's sixteen- year-old twin brothers, might think Harry was losing his nerve. The Weasleys were Harry's favourite family in the world; he was hoping that they might invite him to stay any time now (Ron had mentioned something about the Quidditch World Cup),**

Tonks grinned at the mention of the Cup, but wisely didn't say anything, yet.

**and he somehow didn't want his visit punctuated with anxious enquiries about his scar.**

"Most teenage boys don't want to be fussed over," stated Kingsley, "especially if it's over something they believe to be minor."

**Harry kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. What he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to himself) was someone like – someone like a _parent: _an adult wizard whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about him, who had had experience of Dark Magic ...**

"Even if there was someone who fulfilled the first qualities, he'd never find one for the last category," said Scrimgeour in passing.

**And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, and so obvious, that he couldn't believe it had taken so long**

Scrimgeour stopped and stared at the book for a few seconds in shock before continuing to read.

** – _Sirius._**

After a few seconds, pandemonium broke loose in the room with everyone, minus the two Order members, in complete shock that Harry was corresponding with a known murderer.

"Sirius?"

"Sirius Black?

"Why would Potter be writing to him?" asked Scrimgeour.

"They're both criminals!" shouted Umbridge and then she continued in an angry tone. "Or have you forgotten Potter's security breach of only last week?"

Tonks bit her lip to keep from screaming at Umbridge. Harry had only been defending himself against bloody Dementors! She could only hope that Harry would get a fair trial when the time came. It was currently scheduled to be with Madam Bones, and Tonks desperately hoped it would stay that way, but considering the fact that Harry was a walking version of Murphy's Law, something probably would happen.

"Potter never showed any signs of criminal activity beforehand though," said Scrimgeour slowly.

"Oh he did, he did," said Fudge. "In 1992 he used a levitation charm, in 1993 he inflated his aunt and ran away, and he just recently made up a load of bullshit about You-Know-Who's return. All of those actions greatly pertain to criminal activity."

Scrimgeour could not deny Fudge's statements, though the inflation of Marjorie Dursley was accidental.

**Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room and sat down at his desk; he pulled a piece of parchment towards him, loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, wrote _Dear Sirius,_ then paused, wondering how best to phrase his problem, and still marvelling at the fact that he hadn't thought of Sirius straight away. But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising – after all, he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather two months ago.**

**There was a simple reason for Sirius' complete absence from Harry's life until then – Sirius had been in Azkaban, **

"And he should still be there," growled Fudge. "That place is supposed to be inescapable."

"If there was anyone to prove that wrong, it would be Black," said Kingsley. "From what I thought I knew of him, he was one to always try and prove that the impossible was possible." Kingsley desperately wished that he didn't have to keep playing up to Fudge, but he needed to do that in order to keep his job for the Order's sake.

**the terrifying wizard goal guarded by creatures called Dementors, sight- less, soul-sucking fiends who had come to search for Sirius at Hogwarts when he had escaped. Yet Sirius had been innocent –**

"No, he cannot be innocent!" Fudge shouted. "There were witnesses to his crime. Tell them, Skacklebolt!"

A startled Kingsley looked up and thought very quickly as he tried to figure out something to say that would both please Fudge and not be an out-right lie. "I would say that the circumstances in which Black was found were quite suspicious and obviously warranted arrest."

Thankfully, it looked as if everyone was satisfied with his statement, at least Fudge, Umbridge, and Dawlish were, and those were the most important people to keep calm at the moment. Now that he knew the exact circumstances in which Sirius had been arrested, Kingsley understood why Sirius had been acting the way he did.

** the murders for which he had been convicted had been committed by Wormtail, **

"What?" said Dawlish in surprise. "Wormtail, that puny wizard from the last chapter a murderer?"

"It can't be," said Fudge firmly. "Black betrayed and murdered the Potters', but I wouldn't but it past Wormtail to have somehow been involved as well. He is a confirmed terrorist at any rate."

Percy looked up in confusion. Black had murdered Pettigrew, who he was certain had to be Wormtail. Pettigrew had been on their side and had been the one to discover that Black was the traitor, so it made sense why Black had murdered him. But to think of the idea of Pettigrew being in league with Black was preposterous. "Sir, but isn't Wormtail Peter Pettigrew?" he asked. "The only wizard I can recall who has the name Peter was Peter Pettigrew, the person who discovered Black's treachery. The only thing that I can't understand is that it's impossible for Pettigrew to be living. I think this is yet another reason why it's propaganda. They're trying to make us believe that murderous wizards are innocent and that dead people are actually alive."

"It has to be someone else," said Dawlish. "Pettigrew is dead. It was confirmed by witnesses and we found his finger. This Peter or Wormtail person has to be someone else entirely." The rest of the room, except for Tonks and Kingsley, nodded in agreement, as the argument made sense. Only Scrimgeour and Madam Bones were a little curious as something didn't quite sit right with them regarding all this information about Black, and probably Pettigrew..

Tonks barely managed to stop herself from looking proudly in Percy's direction. The kid still had brains, that was evident at least, but they were being used by the wrong person. Now, if only they could convince him that Voldemort was back, Black was innocent, and Fudge was an idiot, they'd be set. Of course, any one of those things would be nearly impossible, but once they got one, surely the others would follow in time.

**Voldemort's supporter, whom nearly everybody now believed dead. Harry, Ron and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they had come face to face with Wormtail the previous year, though only Professor Dumbledore had believed their story.**

"Because they're a bunch of senile children," stated Fudge. "Black Confounded them into believing he was innocent."

Tonks was barely able to suppress a groan. How England had ended up with a complete idiot for a Minister was beyond her. She could only hope that soon he'd be kicked out of office and they'd get a competent Minister.

**For one glorious hour, Harry had believed that he was leaving the Dursleys at last, because Sirius had offered him a home once his name had been cleared. But the chance had been snatched away from him – Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Harry had helped him escape on the back of a Hippogriff called Buckbeak,**

"So that's what happened to him!" shouted Fudge. "I knew Potter and his cronies had something to do with it, they always do."

"Naturally," said Umbridge. "And now that we know that Potter was truly involved with Black's escape, we can press charges against him."

"Well said, Madam Umbridge," said Percy. "And I wouldn't put it past my younger brother and Granger to be somehow involved, but most likely they were enticed into doing it by Potter."

"Yes," said Umbridge. "Those three are always causing trouble and most certainly were all involved, but I do not know about the enticement. It is very likely that they did it of their own accord." She paused for a moment and with a sigh added, "It's too bad they're all underage. Cornelius, we must get some law passed that if crime committed by an underage person is so malevolent they must be charged the same as an adult."

Scrimgeour quickly looked up in horror. If he hadn't heard it with his own years, he wouldn't have believed Madam Umbridge's statement to be true. How could anyone think that youth should be punished the same as adults? Granted, sometimes youth could do horrific deeds, but it simply wasn't right to give them the same punishment as an adult would get, or at any rate, it shouldn't be as severe.

Tonks knew that Fudge was correct when it came to Harry always having to do with the odd things that happened, but she would never admit that in a million years. Her eyes turned towards Percy and she realized that he didn't look the least bit sorry for what he had said regarding Ron's involvement in Sirius' escape. She couldn't believe that someone could be that unfeeling towards his own family.

**and since then, Sirius had been on the run. The home Harry might have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him all summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys knowing that he had so nearly escaped them forever.**

"And the boy even thinks about running away from is family," sighed Dawlish. "I can see what you mean, Dolores, he really is a horrible child. Between aiding a known criminal, spreading the most outlandish lies, and wanting to run away, all point to the fact that he is wrong in the head and should be locked up in the permanent ward in St. Mungo's."

"You mean to say, you think he is insane?" asked Kingsley as he struggled inwardly to keep a calm outward appearance.

"Of course he is!" said Umbridge. "That curse as a baby addled his brains. In fact, he never should have been allowed to come back to Hogwarts. The disruption of the peace these past four years is all his fault."

**Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he couldn't be with him. **

"How can a criminal help him?" asked Percy.

"They're both criminals and criminals will often help each other," said Dawlish.

**It was due to Sirius that Harry now had all his school things in his bedroom with him. The Dursleys had never allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this. But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather – Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.**

"Which he isn't," said Umbridge severely.

Madam Bones wasn't so sure though. Yes, she had firmly believed Siri-Black to be guilty of betraying the Potters, but something had never set right for her. She couldn't believe that the boy she had known at Hogwarts could be a murderer, but then, you never could tell what someone would end up like. Still, she was certain that there were a few missing pieces from that night.

**Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was usual with wizards) but by large, brightly coloured, tropical birds.**

**"**Scrimgeour, once we're free of this room, you'll send your Aurors down towards the equator regions to search for him," commanded Fudge. "And Skacklebolt, what is this mess about Black being in Tibet?"

"If I may remind you, this book is taking place about a year ago," said Kingsley calmly. "Black very well may have been near the equator a year ago, but rest assured, I have excellent contacts in Tibet and they're certain Black will be caught shortly." Kingsley hoped that everyone, minus Tonks of course, would believe him. He was fairly certain Fudge and Dawlish would, as they were quite thick, but he was beginning to be very wary of Scrimgeour. Kingsley was certain that Scrimgeour didn't agree with Fudge, but at the same time, he knew he didn't want to share any information from Dumbledore with his boss, at least not yet.

** Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before flying off again.**

"That owl has quite the attitude," said Tonks.

"I used to think my owl Hermes was proud, but that was before I met Potter's owl," said Percy. "They do say that the owl's personality matches the personality of its owner."

"Very true, very true," said Fudge. "Potter is a very proud person and this owl has to be the proudest owl in history."

"There really isn't anything about owl and owners personalities, are there?" whispered Tonks.

"I don't know," Kingsley whispered back. "It's possible, but if it is true, than Harry is the exception like usual."

** Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted) he was enjoying himself. Somehow, Harry found it hard to imagine Dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight; perhaps that was why Sirius had gone south. Sirius' letters, which were now hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboard under Harry's bed, sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to now, all right ...**

**Harry's lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold grey light that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. Finally, when the sun had risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold and when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's room, Harry cleared his desk of crumpled pieces of parchment, and re-read his finished letter.**

**_Dear Sirius, _**

**_Thanks for your last letter, that bird was enormous, it_**** _could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going_ _too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now_ _he hasn't even got _Mega-Mutilation Part Three**

"What is that?" wondered Umbridge.

"Some sort of Muggle entertainment thing," answered Tonks.

** _to take his mind off things._**

**_I'm OK, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._**

"I know he'd love to do that," Tonks whispered to Kingsley, who smiled.

**_A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterwards?_**

**_I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back, she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._**

**_Harry_**

**Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream, he didn't want it to look as though he was too worried. **

Tonks every so slightly shook her head, knowing that Sirius would've wanted that bit of information, but as this had happened last year, it no longer mattered.

**He folded the parchment up and laid it aside on his desk, ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his reflection, he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast.**

Before Scrimgeour had a chance to pass the book on, there was a flash of light and another note appeared on the table. Tonks was nearest, so she picked it up and read it aloud.

_Dear everyone,_

_As it is quite clear that many of you don't believe Sirius Black's innocence, certain chapters in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban have been unlocked. Please proceed to reading those before continuing on with your current book._

_Molly and Lucy._

"Well, I guess we should read that then," Tonks said and she picked up the book._  
_

**_Loves to read books: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying it._**

**_Anonymous: Thanks for the review. I found this chapter to be very interesting and I hope you did to._**

**_ Just as a quick note to my anonymous reviewers: Due to the new set up for the reviews, anonymous reviewers can't use a name, so could you please sign with something that I can identify you with when it comes to replying to reviews? Thank you._**


End file.
